When one sees death and pulls back the rot, we call this reunion. When the nights are longer, when the moon continues to shine even at noonday and the world wonders just how long it takes for a man to forget his given name, and remember what he really is.

When mushrooms grow out of panicked fingertips and cleave to the sky above while being buried, we call it desperation. When the boy remembers just how deep the earth really goes, and begins to forget that a man needs to breathe.

When flowers bloom right beside graves and flies become the most recent pollinators, we call it coincidence. When a family scatters into every direction of wind and whim, and starts to forget that the earth was where it all began.

That's how it goes and goes. That's why the world is left spinning like a record stuck on a tired lullaby song. We still haven't realized, nor do we care to remember the fact that we have not been here all that long.